


Exhausted

by Akanthe



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Silly, dear god i have a lot of feelings about connor, i haven't been this in love with a character for a while, i was a little drunk when i wrote this, this is silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 11:23:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15817902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akanthe/pseuds/Akanthe
Summary: Androids do not need sleep. Humans do. So why, Connor wonders, do you work yourself as though you were an android, rather than care for your more human needs?





	Exhausted

Connor didn’t need to rest. He could emulate tiredness, if he wanted. But why would he? Just because he was a ‘deviant’ didn’t meant that he had to try and be human in every aspect - if and when he could maximise his work potential, he would choose to do so. So he chose to not be tired, ever. Hank told him it was probably unhealthy, that he should take time to ‘rest’ in order to restore his mental health and agility, but Connor was yet to find a need to do so. But enough about him.

Contrary to the advantages of machines, humans needed rest. He had seen how exhausted humans performed - which was to say, not well - and found little excuse for them not to rest when they needed it. Which is why your current behaviour confused him.

“____?”

His voice clearly startled you, heartbeat jumping momentarily as you turned to him, eyebrows raised.

“Oh, Connor.” He felt somewhat disappointed when you turned back to your screen, eyes drearily scanning the report you had been working on for what Connor presumed was hours. “Hello.”

“Good morning.”

“What?” He knew that would capture your attention. “Isn’t it like-” Your vision swivelled from him to the dull glow of the screen a few times before you groaned, palm covering your face. “Yeah, it’s definitely not three in the morning any more.”

“No. It’s eight thirty-four in the morning, actually.”

“I gathered.”

“Have you been here all night, ____?” Connor caught your wince at his words, no matter how minor.

“Nah. Just left late and came in early.”

“You’re lying.”

“Wha-at… Me? Lie?” Connor felt his lips twitch upwards at your response. Even before he had turned deviant, he found enjoyment in your persistent humour. “To you?!” You faced him, jaw dropped in mock horror. “Never.”

“Detective, I know you’ve been here all night.”

“You’ve got no proof.”

“You haven’t changed clothes.”

“… Slept in them. Too late to change.”

“Your makeup hasn’t been refreshed.”

“Yikes, thanks for the reminder.” You reached for the fresh coffee on your desk - Connor wondered if you had made it yourself, or if someone had done you the favour of delivering you the ‘liquid sleep’. “But you still can’t prove anything.”

“Detective _____, you know that I know that you’ve been here all night.”

“Sleep is for the weak.”

“You’re exhausted.”

At that, you laughed, setting the coffee down after taking a long swig.

“I’m not exhausted, Connor, I’m tired.” He knew you were taking advantage of his still infantile understanding of the nuances of feeling. “Big difference.”

“I’m not entirely sure I believe you.”

Connor watched as you edited a few lines of the report, quickly tapping out an email to the Captain before sending it off. Finally free, you turned to where he stood, and Connor realised that the harsh white lights of the station were really not doing you any favours. You looked pallid, which only served to emhasise the darkness under your eyes, and he could see where you had been nervously nibbling at your lips. Observing your jaw tense, Connor raised an eyebrow.

“I know you just stifled a yawn.”

“You know nothing.”

“Quite the contrary. I am capable of accessing-”

“Billions of billions of databases of knowledge, blah blah blah.” You cut him off, and Connor felt somewhat pleased to see that your exhaustion hadn’t - yet - affected your wit. “Clearly, those databases you can access don’t code for pop culture references.”

“That’s not my highest priority.”

“Mhm…” You narrowed your eyes at him, taking another long swig of your coffee. “So what is?”

“What?”

“What is your highest priority, Connor?”

Had Connor still been a mere machine, he knew what his answer would have been - even now, it was on the tip of his tongue, hardwired programming difficult to be rid of even in deviancy. The mission. He knew that his mission was important, but he no longer had set parameters for what ‘the mission’ was. He could decide.

“It changes.”

“Oho. Very diplomatic, Connor.” He glared at you, recognising the inflection in your voice. Mocking or not, it didn’t bring back pleasant memories. “So, what is it now?”

Fine. If you wanted it to be that way, Connor was more than happy to play along. After all, he was a deviant. He could do whatever he wanted.

“You.”

He barely resisted a smirk when he saw you visibly recoil at that single word.

“You- uh…” Connor would have been worried about your heart rate spiking so dramatically, if he hadn’t intended it. “Wh- What?”

“And right now…” Connor bent down to your eye level, placing a hand on your shoulder. Your face was a picture - he fully intended to store this moment to memory. “You’re stopping my mission from being completed. You know I hate that, Detective.”

You were lost for words, and Connor felt a smirk creep through his mask. 

“Now, how can I rectify that?”  
“I… I’m not sure.”

“Yes you are.” Connor was taking more glee in this than he morally should be. Teasing you was fun. “You know exactly what I need to do.”

You whimpered. Connor’s sensors definitely weren’t making that up - you whimpered. Even he was shocked at that, blinking rapidly to clarify that what he heard wasn’t an error.

“… Take me to bed?” He could hardly believe you were taken into his trap so easily, smirk breaking into a full-on grin.

“Absolutely. I plan on getting you into bed, no matter the cost.” He rose from where he had been leaning over you, only now noticing how warm your breath had been in it’s absence. Maintaining eye contact - and noting your shallow, rapid breathing - Connor tightened his tie. He didn’t even need a sensor to know what that did to you. “Nothing will stop me from completing my mission, ____.”

“Connor, what’re you doing to the poor girl?”

It was Connor’s turn to flinch, now. He had been so absorbed in his mischief that he hadn’t even heard Hank’s entrance.

“Attempting to complete a mission, Lieutenant.”

“Connor…” The warning in Hank’s voice was not something Connor could easily ignore, even now. “Leave her alone. She’s as pale as a ghost, for fuck’s sake!”

“That’s because she’s tired.”

“A-ha! Ha!” Connor turned back to you, concerned at your outburst. “You said it yourself, Connor. I’m tired.”

“… Yes.” Connor tilted his head, taking in the gleeful look on your face. “I fail to see your point, Detective.”

“I’m not exhausted-“ Connor felt his eye twitch, and your source of amusement became apparent to him. “Just tired!!”

“What is she going on about?” Hank sounded - understandably - exasperated. He was the one who had to put up with you and Connor, after all, and he had already been suffering for too long to put up with this bullshit the one time he was at work on time. You were laughing hysterically, and Connor looked as though he wanted to put you through the desk. “Connor?!”

“She bested me.”

“What the fuck are you on about? ____? What the fuck is going on?!”

Connor wanted to be melodramatic. He really did. But watching you, laughing like a madwoman - probably because you were hugely sleep deprived - in the middle of the station, he couldn’t keep control of his own laughter.

Hank didn’t think he had ever seen Connor laugh before. But here he was, doubled over in laughter, and he had no idea why. 

“I am never coming to work this early ever again.”

Connor had never tried to deny he had a soft spot for you. He tried to look after you in more subtle ways, most of the time: making your coffee for you, turning down the brightness of your screen when your eyes were straining, ensuring he had an umbrella ready for when you inevitably forgot one. He was fond of you. He didn’t think he realised just how fond, however, until now; with you, fast asleep in the taxi next to him, head on his shoulder and hand underneath his on his thigh. Connor felt a flutter in his abdomen, and reflexively swallowed despite the absence of excess saliva. Connor knew he didn’t need rest, but he also knew you did. You had been exhausted, else he knew you wouldn’t have broken your promise to ‘not fall asleep on him’. As he felt your breath ghost over his neck, and your hand tighten its grip on his thigh, Connor couldn’t help but think he was grateful for your exhaustion, in this moment. 

Maybe he would rest, too. As long as he could rest with you, he supposed that would be ok.

**Author's Note:**

> This is so silly but I have so many feelings about Connor that I'm really not sure I can handle them sensibly until I've WORKED THROUGH THEM. I plan on writing much more about Connor, and hopefully some of it will be a little less silly than this.


End file.
